lassie

sorry to be so severe

I'm always bringing the intensity - it is not my best quality

I've been cleaning house, and not liking what I have found in my life

you are dear to me - and I am trouble

I like that I have found you here, and have other cherished friends within these confines

I am on here atleast until may - and by then I may have had a change of heart. I've quit this before, only to be lured back by a sweet deal.

I tend to unload in your direction - I'm not sure why ... except that it seems that you can carry the freight, and perhaps enjoy the ride

anyway it is more fun to be frivolous than serious

and I love these words - any and all Emily Dickinson that I stumble upon moves me

O Sweet Lassie

I love you so much it hurts me to think of you oppressed and stifled

I have no such excuse for my relative silences here - I just lack inspiration (perhaps your inspiration)

I believe in your warrior spirit - you will come clear and be fruitful

until then know that my thoughts are with you, and it lifts my heart to the heavens when you find the time to slip me a message

love always



your remue

i have to leave for a short while...
i'm hoping to make a comeback eventually..
but for now, i got to prepare for an upcoming move, so lots of packing, cleaning and scrubbing to do!
I have to switch apartments with my landlord by May (he's got another kid on the way, and they need our attic space)
so i got to take an internet vacation!
sorry to hear that your work is eating you alive....
i know how that can be sometimes.
i hope you are okay and i think of you often..
you can always drop me an email from time to time also, and i have yours as well.
I'll probably stay on SG for another week or so before heading off for a bit.

thank you for all your kind words..
your journals on here have been an amazing treat to read in the months that i've known you, you are an incredibly gifted writer, and i hope we can stay i touch.

hopefully, i'll talk to you soon

i hope you are having a good weekend so far...
i dont really remember my dreams most of the time,
but in my twenties, i had one of those astral projection things happen to me in my sleep (i was coming down from some drug or another)
it was probably one of the most amazing experiences i ever had in my dreams!

i think i should have been a stay home wife myself, as fulltime work never treated me very well...
but i didnt marry into money, so therefore its kind of necessary that i hold down a job

but yeah,
i would prefer to make a living getting drunk and watching movies all the time, so if you know anyone who's hiring for that job, let me know

I fear I am besieging fortress Lassie - again

so much for my good intentions

I just picked up some Henry James with you in mind - he's another one of your 19th century American lit boys

The Tragic Muse - have you read it? it is characterized as his most 'English' of novels in my penguin edition

crass, rude & brutal matched with idiocy = not much

you, on the other hand, are a force to be reckoned with. I think you know this (or perhaps you don't)

when you muster your energies you are intimidating - to me (and I'm not easily intimidated)

you have the intensity of Dickinson & Emerson coursing through your veins Madam - it is a gift, but I understand why people are overwhelmed

I get like that sometimes - in fact, mostly around you these days ... perhaps I'm more self-aware (because I know when I'm doing it

I think The Tragic Muse is a relatively minor novel although it is supposed to have one of his most vibrant characters - it's about two people both living for art (I bet you never would have guessed) a man who gives up his family and his job to follow his passion for painting, and a woman who is a brilliant actress (the aforementioned vibrant character

to answer the body of this blog entry

I'm not interested in medieval bloodletting or the post-modern equivalent. I'm happy to help you think through your problems ... but I hold my troubles tight to my chest

in my experience talk is a vector of re-injury. I don't believe in the talking cure. I believe in the whiskey cure, the driving until the concrete ends cure, the poetry cure. I am a proponent of self-help

don't ask of me what both you and I are unable to control - I take it you are not a psychotherapist. amateur spook show hour is not for me.

with all of that said I loves you dearly - and truly regret the way that I uncorked in your direction. now you know the pressure cooker I am sitting on in all of its ugly-headed glory. you will probably never look at me entirely the same - are you really any wiser?

sweet Lassie - you are gentle & wise, fierce & passionate - you approach life like text, with a scalpel to uncover a release layers of knowing

you call and I answer - I bare my breast for your inspection. but my breast is not for you

those are not good statistics!

but yeah, people here in Ma. drive horrible too.. and it forces you to become a defensive driver.

also the roads are so much more congested than say twenty years ago..
sometimes getting to work is like driving an obstacle course.
and for some reason, people drive even crazier around these parts when its snowing or raining!

one thing i loved about living in manhattan was not owning a car and having to drive..
i miss everything being in walking distance.
worst case scenario,
i just took a bus or a cab ( i was not a huge fan of the subway)

an addendum to my blog entry

there are malicious people spreading false information about me, brutalizing me and stalking me - these people are criminals

I believe you have been notified

... but that is the last you will hear about from me. I choose to ignore it and celebrate my life and the lives of those around me. it is beneath me

to dwell on it leads to a rabbit hole of rage and anger - and I have more productive things to do with my life

*end discussion*

sorry to lay on the heavy artillery

you get the full brunt of my paranoia - 'tis a frightening kettle of fish

you pulled it out of me - I don't like to talk about such things for a reason

now you know

voice of an angel on that woman...
i never tire of listening to her

This Woman's Work - brings light to my life

thanks for being alive

... and yes, Typepad is coming

You? Fickle? Curious? LMFAO!

Regina Spector

Excerpts from WS, "Extracts from Addresses to the Academy of Fine Ideas"

Gone Fishing.

ahh. what you wrote on regret, and on necessarily lacking foresight . . . so refreshing. thank you.

More later... Juggling puppies and chainsaws.

How sweet you are...

Thank you for your sundry comments.
I will reply in kind when able: this weekend I have friends over for a - possibly ruinous, probably calamitous (this is my current favourite, and over-used, word), just maybe fatal - pub crawl. If I survive, I will address you tomorrow.

OK, so PCH, my oldest and best, is still abed and the Crawl is a few hours away yet, so here goes:

Dammit, if I had the money I would catch the big silver bird from LGW to RDU and come elope with you tomorrow.

(As may have become clear, I know North Carolina a little. A little: Wilmington, and the I40 as far as RDU. I'll probably be back some day soon - look out!)

Obviously you were always going to be a Pisces. For all my life (at least, for as long as I started paying attention), I have always had the quickest, deepest spontaneous understanding with Pisceans. In her autobiography, Edith Piaf, a Sagittarius like me, and superstitious, said that she always asked her prospective employees, assistants, secretaries their star sign, and if they were Pisces, she'd hire them in an instant.

I know a couple of people who would disagree with you... Maurice Dantec (current focus of my academic work and occupying an unhealthy amount of my mind) argues - leaning, perhaps unfairly, on Nietzsche - that Jesus was far from a humanist, indeed that his painting as such is the greatest deformation and betrayal the Christian Church has committed: for Dantec Jesus is Nietzsche's bermann, he is the promise of the trans-human... Dantec notes that when Jesus turns the other cheek, he proffers the left, with an unmistakeably aristocratic disdain...